


Happy Birthday to Me

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and the reader see each other, just once a year on her birthday and his, just one day apart. But it looks like this year he’s not going to make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a birthday present to myself. The reader is definitely an older woman and not feeling very good about her age (aka me).

Age has a tendency to sneak up on you - a gray hair when you’re in your twenties that turned into a stripe of white by the time you were in your thirties, new lines around your eyes that had never been there before, feeling and looking more tired than you’d ever been. One day you woke up and looked in the mirror and wondered when the hell an old lady started looking back at you. Celebrating your birthday became more overwhelming with every year that passed.

Unfortunately, this year’s birthday might qualify as the worst birthday ever. Your “friends” had dragged you out to a bar, put a tiara on your head, draped you in one of those black birthday sashes that said “Over the Hill” and plopped a cake down in front of you. The entire bar had sang “Happy Birthday,” forcing you to smile and play nice when all you wanted to do was to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide.

Then they’d promptly deserted you, wandering off to dance or flirt or whatever, leaving you alone sitting by yourself at a table in the corner, staring at your gifts and a half-eaten birthday cake. Apparently nobody wanted to dance and flirt with the old lady in the corner. The only good thing to happen was that you’d been able to sneak away early and go home.

But what made it worse than any other the birthday was the fact that you hadn’t heard from Dean all day. He had never, not once, missed your birthday. Over the last ten or so years that you’d known him, he’d always managed to get away from hunting and come spend the day with you, indulging your every whim, making you feel alive like only he could. Then the next day, for his birthday, you would return the favor. It was a win win situation for both of you. But this year, you hadn’t heard from him, not even a text. That coupled with the fact that you were apparently over the hill was making this the single worst birthday ever.

After you changed into your flannel pajama pants and a warm sweatshirt, you poured yourself a glass of wine and dropped to the couch, checking the clock as you sat down. It was nearly midnight. It looked like this was officially going to be the first birthday that Dean missed since you’d met.

“Happy birthday to me,” you muttered, taking a huge gulp of the wine.

You pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and made yourself comfortable, wine in one hand, remote in the other. You’d just turned on the television when your phone vibrated. You picked it up and opened the message.

_ I almost missed it. _

It was from Dean. You smiled to yourself. Typical, a text with minutes to spare. You were about to reply when the phone rang in your hand. You pressed the button and put the phone to your ear. “Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey.” His voice was low, quiet and everything you’d been longing to hear. “Sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m just glad you called. I miss you.”

Dean chuckled, a sound you loved. “You’re not mad at me?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m mad at you,” you sighed. “I was sure you were going to miss it.” 

“Let me make it up to you,” he murmured. “Open the door.”

You nearly tripped getting off of the couch, your feet tangling in the blanket around your legs. You hurried to the door, standing on your tiptoes to look out the peephole, squealing a little when you saw a perfect set of green eyes staring back at you. You flipped the lock and yanked open the door, throwing yourself into Dean’s arms.

He crushed you to his chest, cupping your head in his hand and holding your lips to his, kissing you. You closed your eyes and you let yourself sink into him, running your hands over him, finally wrapping your fingers in the lapels of his jacket and pulling him into your apartment. 

The two of you couldn’t stop kissing or touching each other as you moved across the room. You shoved his jacket off as you kicked the door closed, he pulled your sweatshirt off after he relocked it, his plaid overshirt was next, your tank top following right after. By the time you reached your bedroom door, you were in just your panties and Dean had his boots kicked off, his t-shirt was on the floor and his jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped.

He broke away long enough to look at his watch, grinning as he slid his hands over your ass and lifted you, pressing you against the wall by the door. “Made it with five minutes to spare,” he laughed. He dropped his head to your neck, biting the line of your throat, marking you.

Your head fell back against the wall, sighing as Dean’s mouth moved over you, your arms around him, holding him against you. His arm was around your waist, the other roughly kneading your naked breast, his hips rocking into yours over and over. You were moaning, already close to orgasm just from the last few minutes.

Dean turned abruptly, stumbling across the room to the bed. He lowered you to it, twisting his fingers in your panties and pulling them down as he kneeled between your open legs. As he laid you on the bed, he pulled your breast into his mouth, suckling it greedily. His hand was between your legs, his fingers running through your slick, growling low in the back of his throat as he ground two fingers against your already wet opening. 

You pushed yourself against his exploring fingers, gasping his name, begging him for more. He caught your lips in his as he pushed two long, thick fingers inside of you. He moved down your body, licking and kissing over your stomach until his head was between your legs. His tongue darted out, licking a long stripe along your wet folds, eventually settling on your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Your hips rose off the bed to meet his mouth, your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against your aching pussy. His tongue slid in alongside his fingers, the two moving in tandem, fucking into you. You were groaning, undulating beneath him as his mouth moved at a maddening pace, rapidly pushing you higher and higher until you came with a startled gasp.

But Dean didn’t stop there. He pulled his fingers free, took a hold of your hips with both hands and used his knees to push himself forward, his tongue deep inside you, his mouth flush against you, not stopping until you came again, hard, your entire body tensing, a scream of pleasure bursting out of you.

When he finally released you, you were panting and whimpering, nearly drained. You watched as Dean shucked off his jeans and moved back over you, sliding you up the bed until you were nestled amongst the pillows. He pushed open your legs, his hips rocking into yours, his cock brushing against you. He kissed you as he eased himself inside you, just an inch at a time, drawing out the sensations, thrusting slowly.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, the angle perfect, Dean’s cock brushing repeatedly against your sweet spot as he moved inside you. He buried his face in your neck, sucking at your pulse point, moaning quietly. 

You dug your nails into his shoulders as the heat spread through your limbs and a tingle of anticipation started deep in the pit of your stomach. Harder and harder Dean thrust into you until your world narrowed to just you and him rutting and grinding against each other, skin sliding over skin, connected in the most intimate of ways. 

When you came for the third and final time, your walls clenching around Dean, drawing his own orgasm from him, it was with a quiet gasp of his name. Dean let go with a grunt, his entire body tensing as he came, his cock twitching inside you. 

He collapsed to the bed beside you, chest heaving, sweat running in rivulets down his neck, his hand splayed over your hip. You rested your head on his shoulder, your arm thrown over his waist, occasionally kissing his shoulder or neck.

“Am I forgiven?” he smirked.

“Yes,” you laughed. “Of course.” You leaned on his chest and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” You glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. “Happy birthday to us,” he murmured.


End file.
